


Clint Barton, Action Hero

by jstabe



Series: Winterhawk Bingo 2019 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-25 00:11:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20714879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jstabe/pseuds/jstabe
Summary: Bucky has been an Avenger for about half a second when you compare that time against his being HYDRA’s soldier, and he still doesn’t understand how in the hell these people always manage to come out on top.





	Clint Barton, Action Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for [this](https://mandatoryfunday.tumblr.com/post/187751145950/who-the-hell-gave-clint-barton-the-right-to-a) prompt for mandatory fun day.
> 
> Also a fill for my Winterhawk Bingo square BAMF Clint Barton.

Bucky has been an Avenger for about half a second when you compare that time against his being HYDRA’s soldier, and he still doesn’t understand how in the hell these people always manage to come out on top. He has yet to go on a mission of any kind that doesn’t devolve into explosions, bad jokes, and someone needing their ass pulled out of the fire. (Usually Clint. Sometimes literally.) He honestly doesn’t know how they managed to save the world or survive the Winter Soldier in DC. Everything about the Avengers is chaos. Controlled, sure, but still chaos. 

He hears a whisper of sound and ducks left just as a bullet buries itself in the metal of the shipping container, right where his head had been. Blowing out an irritated breath, he swings around and fires in the direction the shot had come from, doesn’t bother watching the body drop. He knows he hit his target. Almost getting shot in the head doesn’t do shit for his mood. He shifts around the corner of the container, doing a practiced sweep of the area for more idiots intent on shooting him. 

“This kind of shit never happened with HYDRA,” he mutters under his breath. 

There is a long, pained sigh over comms because Steve only likes dark humor when it’s his own. Not so for Stark, who is chuckling as he flies overhead. 

“Oh, come on, Kimble, you love us.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes, shoots another dumb ass. “Clint?” 

“_The Fugitive_. Harrison Ford movie.” Clint doesn’t even sound winded though Bucky can see the barrage of arrows he’s letting loose from his perch atop one of the shipping containers. “’s good. We should watch it.” 

Bucky figured it was something like that. Stark only gives nicknames that mean something. Most of the time the meaning is lost on Bucky, but that doesn’t discourage Stark. 

“I think it was a tv show too,” Clint says. “But that was before my time.” 

“Tony.” Steve’s tone is long-suffering. 

“Yes, cupcake?” Tony swoops down and a repulsor blast takes out a mob of goons who were frantically trying to offload weapons from one the containers. 

Bucky is grateful for the assist, more grateful that only Steve gets nicknames based on food, mostly baked goods. The future is weird. Bucky will never stop saying it. 

“Could we possibly focus on the mission?” Natasha sounds even more long-suffering than Steve. Bucky hadn’t thought that was possible. 

“You mean the one that went FUBAR when the container we needed exploded?” Clint asks. 

More arrows rain down on a sector over to Bucky’s left. He turns his attention to his right, knowing he can trust Clint to clear out his side. Another bullet whizzes past his head, close enough to ruffle his hair. He curses in Russian, strides forward to land a punch to the shooter’s jaw, knocking him several feet back. Steve sighs again, and Bucky scowls. 

“Never.Happened.With.HYDRA,” he spits out. “I was a ghost.” 

“Yeah, well, better watch your ass, Casper,” Clint snickers. “You’ve got trouble coming around the farthest container in the northwest corner.” 

Stark takes off, presumably to help with that issue, and Bucky can hear the almost constant clang of Steve’s shield even without the comms. Steve and Natasha are in the southern quadrant, clearing out operatives who were trying to abscond with intel on the Winter Soldier. Bucky doesn’t think these dumb asses are actually HYDRA, but they’re probably trying to resurrect it. Cut off one head, blah blah. Bucky’s status as the aforementioned ghost meant nothing was kept online, and there are very few paper records. Whatever is here, along with the weapons the Wanna-Be's deem necessary to start a HYDRA offshoot, needs to be in Avengers hands. 

It’s not looking good for that. Another explosion rocks the air near where the first container had gone up in flames. Bucky doesn’t care if it all goes, but Stark will be pissed if they can’t get some usable intel from all of this. Grimacing, Bucky heads toward the middle of the maze of containers, intending to get closer to the destroyed ones and see what’s being stored in the other containers in that area. It’s probably important if the bad guys would rather blow it up than let the Avengers have it. He hits the center of the maze and there’s a whine directly overhead that has him hitting the ground instinctively. There’s a deafening roar and then silence as the comm in Bucky’s ear crackles. He winces but doesn’t take it out. It’s his lifeline to the team he can no longer see. 

Thick smoke is rolling over the ground, the crackle of fire loud off to his left. He stands, knowing that won’t help. Even without the cover of smoke, the containers are too tall for him to see over. He taps at the comm, hopes for the best. 

“Stevie? Stark?” 

Nothing, but he can still hear Steve’s shield, and an occasional burst of gunfire that has to be Natasha. At least he has enhanced hearing. He knows his team is still there, even if they don’t know where he is. 

“Clint?” 

Still nothing, and he frowns. Clint had been up high, as usual. He’ll have eyes on Bucky and even if the comms don’t come back on quickly, he knows Clint will find him. He starts to run towards the last place he’d seen Clint, intending to make it easier for the archer to meet up with him. Movement to his right catches his eye and he skids down into a slide just in time to miss the fist thrown at his face. He’s immediately rolling back up to his feet and engaging, making short work of the agent stupid enough to try to go hand to hand with the Winter Soldier. 

He’s quick, but not quick enough because the small clearing becomes filled with armed agents, every one of them focused on Bucky. He grips his gun tighter, taking in the numbers. It’s not looking good and he still can’t hear a damn thing through the comms. He’s on his own. He shifts his weight, finds his balance, as he lets his mind go cold and calm. He’s calculating angles when he hears a distant roar growing closer and closer. He can’t tell what it is, can’t let it shift his focus. He is not getting shot here today if he can help it. 

He raises his rifle but suddenly no one in the clearing is even looking at him. All eyes are focused up and if it’s a trick, well. He looks up and off to the distance, the roar getting louder. He can make out... the beam of a single headlight? 

“What the fuck?” 

He doesn't have to wonder long because the smoke dissipates just enough that he can see a motorcycle streaking closer, on top of the shipping crates, and what kind of action movie bullshit is this? How in the hell... 

“Clint.” 

Bucky has no idea how or why, but the who can’t be anyone else. Besides Steve, Clint is the only member of the team that has that reckless lack of self-preservation. Disaster blonds. He’s surrounded by them. 

The goon squad has finally gotten smart enough to realize that the figure on the bike is probably not on their side and the guns shift upward. Bucky isn’t a fan of anyone aiming a weapon at his boyfriend and he starts taking out targets with extreme prejudice. He’d rather get shot himself than let any of these assholes hurt Clint. 

The roar of the bike revs up and Bucky glances up in time to see it fly off the end of the last container and come to a jarring landing. It skids briefly before Clint rights it and aims right for the center of the ring of agents. It is, of course, utter chaos. Bucky sighs and shoots anyone who makes a move towards Clint. There are still a worrying number of agents who can get a shot off before the bike would get to them. Clint can’t run them all down. 

He seems to realize this about the same time Bucky does, and Bucky can see him sit up straight. He reaches back and that’s when Bucky realizes that he’s wearing his quiver. As if Clint would go anywhere without it. How he’s going to shoot one handed, Bucky will never know. 

Except he doesn’t. He lets go of the handlebars and unhooks the bow from over his shoulder, shakes it out. He starts shooting in the same steady rhythm he uses when he’s standing on solid ground, but he’s doing it from a moving motorcycle, using only his thighs to keep it balanced. 

Jesus Christ, Bucky is in love. Lust. Both. 

“Holy shit.” 

That? Did not come from Bucky and he turns a murder glare on the agent next to him who is staring at Clint in fascination. Bucky growls and raises his gun, fires one perfect shot to drop the guy. No fucking way is some low-level HYDRA thug allowed to ogle his archer. 

Bucky hears a low whine and he looks over to see Clint lean back down and grab the handlebars as he deliberately tips the bike to the side. He rolls off, sends the bike crashing into five or six dumb asses. He stands and shoots another two before he races to the fallen bike and rights it. He hops on, skids around and aims straight for Bucky. 

Bucky raises a brow, but Clint isn’t slowing down. He’s going to shoot right past Bucky, but then he puts out an arm and Bucky doesn’t even think. He grabs Clint’s hand and uses Clint’s momentum to straddle the bike behind Clint. 

“The fuck, Barton?” 

“Got to get out of here.” 

Before Bucky can ask, one of the containers Clint had driven on explodes off to the right. Clint maneuvers the bike through the falling debris, as the containers start to blow up one by one. 

“Saw them setting the charges,” Clint yells back over his shoulder. “They definitely don’t want us getting our hands on anything down here.” 

Fuck. Stark and Steve are going to be pissed. Bucky slings his rifle over his shoulder and grabs onto Clint’s hips, leans down low over his back so he doesn’t fuck up Clint’s balance. 

“Where the fuck did you get a bike?” 

“One of those semi-trailers on the west edge was full of them.” Clint sounds casual, like they’re out for a Sunday drive. “This baby was sitting up top, all shiny and beautiful. Quicker than running.” 

Bucky remembers the sight of him riding up high on those containers. “You couldn't have found one closer to the ground?” 

“Where would the fun have been in that?” Clint cackles. 

They’ve put some space between themselves and exploding crap when Clint throttles the bike down and finds a place to stop. Bucky slides off the back, watches the muscles in Clint’s thigh shift under his tac pants as he puts the kick stand down. He dismounts, throws Bucky a grin that is all kinds of pleased as he collapses the bow and slings it back across his chest and Bucky can’t help himself. He strides forward, backing Clint up against yet another shipping container, and kisses the hell out of him. 

Clint makes a startled sound, but he grabs onto Bucky’s hips and kisses back. Bucky rolls his hips against Clint, groaning as his cock slides against Clint’s. He could blame the hard-on on the adrenaline from the fight, but that’s bullshit. It had been watching Clint act like a he was in god damn action movie that had done it. 

“Jesus, I should not be encouraging this,” Bucky groans. “God knows what you’ll do next.” 

“But it was fucking awesome, right?” Clint’s grinning at him, wide and pleased. “Saved your ass, baby.” 

Yeah, no, Bucky is cutting that line of thought off right now. He’s no fucking damsel. He kisses Clint again, reaches down to undo Clint’s tac pants and slip his hand inside. Bucky is excellent at distraction. It’s definitely working, judging by the way Clint moans and thrusts into his hand. The kiss deepens, Clint’s tongue fucking into Bucky’s mouth as he gets his hands between them to undo Bucky’s pants. Calloused fingers wrap around him and Bucky shudders, hips jerking into Clint’s hand. 

It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before Bucky’s whimpering and spilling over Clint’s fingers. He’s too keyed up to make this last, and while threat of torture won’t get him to admit it, Clint had been fucking hot on that bike. 

Seconds later Clint is gasping into Bucky’s mouth and coming in hot pulses into Bucky’s hand. They break the kiss, panting against one another’s mouths as they try to come down. Clint swallows hard, nips Bucky’s bottom lip. 

“God damn. We are doing that again.” 

“Which part?” Bucky probably doesn’t have to ask. 

“_All_ of it.” 

"Not on comms you’re not, Clinton Francis Barton,” Natasha’s voice hisses in Bucky’s ear. 

“Oh shit. Full named.” Clint jumps like a scalded cat, yanking his hand out of Bucky’s pants fast enough to make Bucky wince. Clint gives an apologetic look. “Umm, hey guys.” 

“Don’t you hey me.” Natasha is clearly furious. “I just had to listen to my best friend get a god damn hand job.” 

“You heard that, huh?” 

Steve chooses to pipe in. “We all heard that.” 

Bucky frowns. “But my comm was down.” 

“Mine too,” Clint is frowning. “Figured it was that first big explosion.” 

Bucky hears the familiar sound of Iron Man and raises his head to see red and gold hovering in the sky above them. “Nah, just shorted out. You were transmitting fine.” Stark lands and the faceplate goes up to reveal his grin. “No more _Mission: Impossible_ marathons for you, Hawkguy.” 

“Oh, come on, that was awesome! And I saved Bucky and everything.” 

He sounds so pleased, and that grin? Yeah, Bucky’s going to have to give him this one. 

“It was,” Stark agrees. “Except for the part where you nearly gave Cap a heart attack.” 

“Sorry, Steve.” Clint toes the ground like an actual toddler. 

Steve just laughs as he jogs up to join them. “Between you and Buck, I’m getting used to it.” 

“Uh, Tony?” 

“Yeah, birdbrain?” 

“If that was on comms, it means J.A.R.V.I.S. has it recorded, right?” 

“Yep. Don’t worry, he won’t put it on Redtube or anything.” 

“Maybe Pornhub,” Steve teases. Everyone looks at him and he groans. “Come on, guys. I’m not that innocent.” 

For some reason, that makes Clint crack up. “Okay, Britney.” 

Steve looks as confused as Bucky feels. “Who?” 

Clint looks at Stark, scandalized. “You taught him about porn, but not Britney Spears?” 

Tony rolls his eyes. “I did not teach him porn. He figured that one out all on his own.” 

Natasha joins them, holstering her weapon. Bucky’s grateful since he’s sure he’d be the one taking the bullet if she’s pissed. She loves Clint too much to damage him. “West Coast Avengers has a ring to it, don’t you think?” 

Tony frowns. “What do you mean?” 

“California. Sun, sand, ocean waves.” Natasha sounds almost dreamy. “I could put together my own team. All women so I never again have to hear my best friend getting off over the comms.” 

Clint looks horrified. “You’d leave me?” 

Natasha softens. “I suppose I might miss you.” 

Clint bounces on his feet. “You would! Got to stay here for more of my awesomeness. I swear I’ll keep it in my pants from now on.” 

Natasha sighs heavily, like she doesn’t believe that for a minute. “I’m going back to the Quinjet. I don’t want to hear a peep from any of you for the next twenty-four hours unless the world is ending.” 

Tony’s faceplate closes and he takes off. Bucky knows he’ll make one final round of the site before he heads home on his own. Bucky doubts there will be anything left, but Tony will need to see for himself. Steve shoots a grin at Bucky and Clint and takes off in the same direction. He’ll hang around until Tony is finished, like he does every mission now. Bucky would roll his eyes at the co-dependency those two have, but he’s the same with Clint. 

Speaking of... 

Bucky turns back to Clint and finds his boyfriend grinning at him. Bucky grins back, leans in to kiss the corner of Clint’s mouth. 

“We’re taking the bike back, right?” 

Clint lights up. “Hell yes. That was one sweet ride.” 

Bucky reaches up to tug his comm out of his ear, steps close to Clint and removes his as well. “You give me a ride back to the tower.” He leans in to lick the shell of Clint’s ear. “And then I’ll give you one. As thanks for saving my ass.” 

Clint whimpers. “It’s a really pretty ass. Couldn’t let anything happen to it.” 

Bucky leans back, gives Clint’s body a slow once over. “I’m going to show you just how grateful I am for that as soon as we’re on your floor.” 

Clint glances to the bike and then back to Bucky. “Why wait for my floor? We could make out in the parking garage. On the bike.” 

“Sold. Let’s go, doll. We’ve got a lot of riding ahead.” 

Clint’s laughing as he mounts the bike, and Bucky? Well, he doesn’t mind being the damsel, much, if it’s Clint doing the saving.


End file.
